


The Adventures of Dean Constantly Seeing Sam Getting Fucked

by brokenlittleboy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Sam, Jealous Dean, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 17:22:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6088093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenlittleboy/pseuds/brokenlittleboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has walked in on Sam being fucked a couple of times before, but he never expected this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Adventures of Dean Constantly Seeing Sam Getting Fucked

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't think of a title. So you get that one. Heh. Poor Dean, always getting taunted with what he craves.

_1997_

  
The auto shop let Dean off early and he was eager to get home to Sammy. Dad was off on some hunt again, so it was just the two of them in a tiny house in Buttfuck, Texas, sweating away the summer by diving in the lake down the street and watching old cartoons.

 

It was fucking perfect. Usually, he hated when Dad left them cooped up like this, useless to him while he threw himself down the throat of danger, but this had been a damn good summer. Sam was growing up, no longer some chubby little kid. His frame grew taller faster than his muscles could keep up and he was one long, awkward beanpole, tripping around, his voice dropping. A lot. It freaked Dean out a little, honestly. If Sam was taller than him in a month, he wouldn't be surprised.

 

He hummed a tune as he jammed his key into the front door lock, slipping inside. The door creaked open and no one answered. Dean looked around at the dimly-lit living room, cast in shadow, and further down into their tiny kitchen. Nothing. There were only three fuckin' rooms in the place, so Sam must've been in the bedroom.

 

Dean tossed the keys onto the coffee table and headed down the hall. He heard a moan and his brain went into overdrive hunter mode, his ears zeroing in on the door before him. He put a hand to the Bowie knife at his back, and crept forward, cat-silent. He lunged forward and yanked open the door, bursting in.

 

Sam was flat on his back, arching up, his neck bared to the guy that was on top of him. They were both completely naked, and Sam's legs, wrapped around the guy's waist, twitched and spasmed.

 

The guy was inside of Sam.

 

Sam's eyes snapped open and he gaped at Dean, going completely still. "Dean!" he blurted, and the guy froze too, looking up at Dean, sweat dripping from his collarbone down onto Sam.

 

Sam's friend looked down at Sam. "Who is that guy?"

 

"That's my brother," Sam squeaked, closing his eyes again, his cheeks flushed pink, and, oh yeah, Dean remembered that he was actually seeing this, not just imagining it. Shit.

 

"I'll um, I'll be in the living room," Dean mumbled, backing up. His heart did a weird flip that he didn't know how to describe. In his mind's eye, he could still see Sam's tummy, heaving up and down, and his pink little-- _god,_ what was wrong with Dean? He tried to clear his head. "Sorry." He shut the door behind him and ran for the hills.

 

It was only a few minutes later when the guy came out, fully dressed, making a beeline for the door. He ignored Dean. Dean felt a little bad that he stopped them from finishing, because he knows firsthand how much that sucks.

 

His entire body heated up when he realized what he'd been thinking about. Sam and... whoever that was. Dean didn't even recognize him. He was definitely older than Sam, and Dean didn't know how he felt about that. Sam and some stranger.

 

Christ, Sam was only fourteen. And Dean--Dean hadn't known.

 

The bedroom door closed and Dean looked over to see Sam there, hovering around the entrance to the living room, clad in a t-shirt and sweatpants. He was looking down at the floor, his mouth down-turned.

 

"Sam," Dean said, and Sam's eyes flicked up, looking all droopy like a sad dog's. Dean sighed. "C'mere."

 

Sam padded over and sat on the edge of the chair across from Dean, his adam's apple bobbing. "You mad?" he asked, his shaken voice quiet and defeated. "Please don't tell Dad."

 

"What?" Dean blurted. "What? No, I--I'm not mad, Sam."

 

Sam still wouldn't look at him. "Disappointed it wasn't a girl?"

 

Dean scrubbed a hand down his face. "What the hell, Sam, no! I just--why didn't you tell me?"

 

Sam finally snuck a peek at him and Dean's heart ached at how miserable the kid looked. He'd always thought Sam was a blushing little virgin, crushing on girls at school. _Sam was only fourteen_. He'd thought he'd known everything about his baby brother. He couldn't help but feel a tad upset that Sam had never come to him about this.

 

Sam didn't respond, so Dean kept going. "Is he your boyfriend?"

 

Sam bit his lip. "No, just a friend."

 

Dean didn't know which was worse. "Dude, you know I'm not an asshole. You could've told me about this."

 

"I know." Sam met his gaze. "I know, I'm sorry. I guess I was just scared. Sorry if I made you feel like I didn't trust you or something, 'cause I do, okay? I just..." Sam trailed off, shifting in his spot.

 

Leave it to Sam to be worried about Dean during all of this. "Good to know," Dean said, shooting Sam a big grin and watching Sam relax. "You use a condom?"

 

"Dean!" Sam barked, flushing red. So Dean definitely got the blushing part right.

 

"It's important stuff, Sammy," Dean said. "You put a sock on the doorknob and you use a condom."

 

Sam blinked and swallowed, pinned under Dean's spotlight. Dean laughed at him.

 

"We used one," Sam finally muttered.

 

 _Oh, thank god._ Dean got up and clapped him on the back. "Congrats on the notch on your bedpost, kiddo," he said, getting up to make them some dinner.

 

He was at the stove heating up some water to make pasta when he heard Sam come around behind him. "He was my first," Sam said softly, "I was gonna tell you."

 

Dean turned and leaned against the counter. He looked Sam in the eye, tried to show him with just a look that everything was okay, 'cause he knew Sam was gonna overthink all of this to hell and back. "I know," he said, and Sam's lips twitched in the barest trace of a smile.

 

It was a start.

***

 

_2000_

 

The three of them had been hunting some werewolf when John had gotten a call and his muscles all tensed up. He'd told Sam and Dean he would finish the job and carted them off to Pastor Jim's. Sam had complained, asking why they couldn't help. They were both capable young men. John hadn't even responded, getting back in his truck and turning back down the dirt road. The Impala was Dean's now, and he could've followed after John if he wanted to, instead of being left here like a bunch of little kids.

 

Even with Sam pushing him, demanding him to, he didn't. Dad would only leave like that for a reason, and he told Sam as much. Sam scoffed and Dean was fed up with everything in general, with Dad maybe driving off to his death right then, so he snapped at Sam, and Sam snapped back until they were tumbling onto the ground, sparring.

 

Sam flipped Dean onto the ground and Dean grunted, all the air going out of him. Sam stood up, glaring down at him with narrowed eyes, his shoulders shaking, hands clenched. Dean closed his eyes. He didn't want to see Sam like that.

 

"I'm going out," Sam said quietly, slamming the door behind himself.

 

When Dean got his wits about him a few minutes later, he stood, going to the bedroom window and looking down over the front yard. The Impala was still there. Sam hadn't taken it. No matter how angry he got, Dean knew he never would. His heart softened.

 

Dean headed downstairs to find Pastor Jim paging through some books in his office. "You see Sam?" he asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

 

Pastor Jim looked up and set his reading glasses down onto the desk. "He just asked to borrow my car," he told Dean, smiling.

 

"You know where he went?"

 

Pastor Jim shook his head. "I didn't ask," he said, his smile tilting down. "Should I have?"

 

"No," Dean responded immediately. "No, I just wanted to know where he was."

 

He left the study, slipping through the front door and gunning Baby's engine, heading out to town. There were only so many places Sam could be. There was only one library in town, a few bars, some parks. Shit like that.

 

He cruised up and down Main Street, scanning building fronts for something that might catch Sam's eye. He stopped in front of Red Heart, a club booming with music. The neon sign out front had two guys dancing together.

 

A gay club, it had to be.

 

Something in Dean's Sam-radar started pinging and he pulled to the curb. Sure enough, he spotted Pastor Jim's little Toyota across the street. He got out and was let past by the bouncer. The club was dark, with thumping, bassy music and neon colors flashing all around. Someone slapped his ass but he kept moving, cheeks burning. The place was packed.

 

He made his way to the bar and ordered a beer, scanning across the crowd for a moppy head of hair poking out above everyone else. He didn't see anything, sighing, and he had started to turn back to the bar when something caught his eye.

 

There was a door in the corner, covered with pink curtains. People were filing in and out, but only in couples, and the people coming out all looked pretty debauched.

 

Dean set his beer down and shoved past dancing bodies to the door. He pushed apart the curtains to look inside. There were couches all over the place, with guys in varying states of undress sprawled across them. It stunk of sex.

 

It was too dark to see much but he kept moving through, averting his eyes from all the asses and dicks surrounding him. His entire face was burning, and with each slap or wet noise, he felt further and further out of his element. He turned to head back, freezing only when he heard a familiar sound.

 

He didn't pause to think about how weird it was to be able to pick out the sound of Sam's moan in a crowd. He tried to look as unobtrusive as possible as he made his way to the back corner of the room. He found a conveniently placed support beam and leaned against it, peering at a leather couch tucked into the corner of the room.

 

Sam was bent over the back of the couch, his hands braced on the cushions, his ass bare and up in the air, pushing back against another guy with short, sandy hair who was thrusting into Sam like his life depended on it.

 

 _Oh god._ Logically, Dean knew he shouldn't be watching, that he should get the hell out of here and go to the park to watch puppies playing or something, but he couldn't get himself to move. Sam moaned again, low and sultry, and it went straight to Dean's cock, which was getting heavier between his legs.

 

Sam wiggled and grinded back against the dude, who started swearing, curling his paws around Sam's hips and ramming deep into him, over and over, _slap slap slap._

 

Dean unbuttoned his pants and shoved his hand down into his boxers, curling his fingers around his hard length and stroking. He bit his lip to stop from groaning, watching as Sam slipped a hand between his legs and started stripping his cock, fast and rough, in tempo with Dean and the other man.

 

Sam's back arched up, the muscles tensing, and Sam practically screamed, staying all tight and corded up as he covered his hand with come, making his fingers shiny in the low light. The other guy swore again and only fucked into Sam a few times before his hips started stuttering and he pressed close against Sam, his ass flexing as he came deep inside Dean's little brother.

 

Dean's knees buckled and he leaned his forehead against the column as his own orgasm rocked him down to his toes. He panted roughly, wiping his hands on his boxers and zipping back up.

 

He ran. He had to get out of there before Sam did. He was in his car before he knew it. He got a pizza from a pizza place a couple blocks over and went on a drive around town to ensure he'd get back after Sam. He didn't want to look suspicious.

 

Back in Pastor Jim's driveway, he saw the little green sedan back in its parking space. Sam was back home.

 

An iron fist curled around Dean's center and he tamped down the violent jealousy and possessiveness he was feeling. Sam had gone out and had let some stranger fuck him, had let some fucking creep into his ass. How often did Sam do that? How many times had Sam said he was going to the library just to get off instead?

 

Dean sighed, letting his forehead fall against the steering wheel. He knew this was Sam's first time doing this, because Sam had introduced him to all his boyfriends in the past. Sam trusted him with everything. And Sam had probably only done it because of his fight with Dean. Shit.

 

He knocked on the bedroom door before entering, even though he knew Sam wouldn't be in any compromising positions. Been there, done that. He held up the pizza box, smiling down at Sam. "Pineapple pizza?" he asked, and he knew by the grateful look on Sam's face that he'd been forgiven for their little spat.

 

If only Dean could forgive himself.

***

 

_2006 (now)_

 

They're squatting in some shithole house and they have to keep the fire going constantly so they don't freeze to death. Dean doesn't know how Sam can stand staying in there all day. Dean always has to leave to find somewhere warmer, whether it's the grocery store for supplies or a bar or something else.

 

Sam stays, though, and Sam researches, powering through all the cold by staying in his winter coat. Whenever Sam goes to the library, Dean accompanies him, even if he just fucks around while they're there.

 

This time, Dean's been at a bar for around an hour or so, but he's not drunk. He just sorta feels like shit. He's been putting space between him and Sam without realizing it because of that damn house. Ever since they got back on the road together, they've gotten closer and closer, and Dean's fucking addicted to it. He's addicted to Sam's laugh, so rare, a gift to Dean every time. He's addicted to Sam's dimples and Sam's intelligence and Sam's bravery and okay, he might be addicted to everything about Sam, but whatever.

 

Sam's freaked out about his psychic shit and has been ever since that whole mess with Max, and he probably shouldn't be left alone. Dean just hates the cold. He'd rather roast alive in Arizona than be cold all the way down to his bones in Minnesota.

 

Whatever. He and Sam can cuddle by the fire and watch one of the DVDs Dean illegally borrowed from the library. He can't believe they still haven't seen the second _Ghostbusters_ movie yet. He hopes it doesn't suck.

 

He's out the door before he knows it, hunching down against the chilling wind and sliding into Baby. He turns the heat up, sighing as the vents blast his face. He heads back into their run-down residential area, pulling into the driveway in front of their ice cube foreclosure.

 

Once inside, he adds some more wood to the fire. It's gotten a little low, which is strange. Sam is usually on top of that, OCD about everything. He rubs his hands together, his breath puffing out in front of him in a cloud. He threads through the house to the back, where the bedrooms are located. They'd called dibs on separate ones, but they usually end up huddled together in a sleeping bag in front of the fire.

 

He opens one door. Nothing. He walks across the hall and opens the door to definitely _not_ nothing.

 

Sam's on his back, his knees pulled up. He's got a big pink vibrator in one hand, covered in lube. He pushes it in and out of his hole with a filthy wet noise, his eyes closed, mouth open. He didn't see Dean come in and Dean cannot move.

 

"Oh, Dean, fuck yes, _more_ ," Sam mumbles, his hand moving faster, pumping the vibrator deep into his stretched-out hole. The high hum the machine makes is muffled by Sam's skin, and the thing's in as deep as it'll go.

 

Sam writhes on the bed, his toes curling as he spreads his legs further apart, never pulling the vibe fully out before slamming it back in, harsh and deep, ringing straight up against his prostate. Sam's other hand flies from the sheets to his cock, so fucking long, and he pulls and pulls and pulls. He's way too close.

 

Dean moves without thinking. He crawls onto the bed, and Sam's entire body jolts when the mattress bends. Sam's eyes go bigger than saucers but Dean is so hard that he can't think straight.

 

"Shh, baby," he murmurs instead, petting the inside of Sam's quivering thigh. "It's okay, big brother's here."

 

Sam's eyes go dark, still full of question and fear, but consumed more so with lust. Dean crawls over Sam's body and gets close to his face, feeling Sam's harsh breath heat up his skin.

 

"Can I kiss you?" he asks quietly, running a hand up and down Sam's hip.

 

Sam swallows once, twice, blinking slowly. His mouth closes. "Dean--"

 

"Sam." Dean shuts him up. "I fucking... I need you, 'kay? It kills me to see you with other guys when you've gotta know you're mine, right? Don't you know it, Sammy?"

 

Sam's pupils are blown and he nods his head up and down, his puppy bangs falling into his face. Dean brushes them aside and Sam's eyes flutter shut.

 

Dean hums a warning sound, pulling Sam's hands away from his hole and his cock. Sam's eyes open back up, heavy-lidded, barely open, his chest heaving. "I want to hear you say it," Dean whispers. "Say it, Sammy."

 

Sam groans, his dick twitching against his stomach and Dean just wants to _taste_. "M'yours," Sam slurs. "Fuck, Dean. Oh my god."

 

Dean grins, all teeth and promise. "That's fuckin right," he growls, digging his nails into Sam's babysoft skin. "This whole time. Mine."

 

Sam nods more vigorously, reaching his hand down to stroke himself. Dean slaps it away.

 

"Can I kiss you, baby?" Dean asks again, brushing his nose against Sam's.

 

Sam answers his question by tilting his head up, pressing his lips against Dean's with a hungry, begging noise. Dean bites at Sam's bottom lip and tugs on it, nudging Sam's mouth open wider. He sucks hard on Sam's lip, making it sensitive and shiny. He plunges his tongue deep into Sam's mouth, and Sam whimpers, pressing his tongue up against Dean's.

 

Dean doesn't know how long they make out, bodies heating up, his clothed cock rutting up against Sam's hip, but it feels like an eternity. When the tightness in his balls can't be ignored any longer, he pulls up and away, licking at the strand of drool that connects their mouths.

 

"Lemme help you out," he husks, and Sam's eyes follow his every move, so fucking sexy and raw, and Sam is cute and pretty but right now he's fucking gorgeous, he's the epitome of sin and danger and sex, just pure fucking sex, and Dean wants to ravage him.

 

They'll have more time for that later.

 

He backs up and makes himself comfortable between Sam's spread thighs. He pulls the vibrator out halfway, and Sam makes a pleading noise for it to come back. Without warning Dean slams it back in, tilting it up and fucking it in and out of Sam, rubbing the head of it right up against Sammy's sweet spot.

 

Sam screams like an animal and his whole body convulses on the bed. Dean's dizzy with it, high with just watching Sam's body laid out like this, moving like a rushing river.

 

He keeps working on Sam's hole, and waits until Sam's eyes squeeze shut before using his other hand to prop Sam's cock up. He licks a broad stripe from the base to the crown, and Sam gasps, shuffling onto his elbows to watch Dean.

 

"Dean, oh fuck," Sam groans.

 

Dean kisses the head of Sam's pretty pink cock, licking up the precome that's dripping out of Sam. There's so much of it, and the musky taste is something Dean never wants to forget.

 

"So wet, like a girl," he mutters. "So wet for me, Sammy."

 

Sam makes a high pitched whine deep in his throat. Dean wraps his lips around Sam's cock, meeting Sam's eyes as he lowers himself onto the shaft, the head of Sam's cock nudging the back of his throat.

 

Sam's thighs tense and untense and Sam can't stop the whimpers from falling out of his mouth. "Oh god, oh god oh god oh god," he pants, his voice absolutely wrecked, an octave higher than usual. His toes are curled tight and his feet dance against the mattress. "Oh god, Dean."

 

Dean starts humming around Sam's dick, copying the moves girls have used on him. He bobs slowly up and down, using his tongue to swipe around the big vein on the underside of Sam. He ups his pace, both with the vibrator and his mouth, and Sam screams again, falling back, his entire body pushing down and fucking up into Dean's movements.

 

Saliva floods Dean's mouth and he lets Sam's hips fuck his mouth with abandon. Sam goes from fully seated in him to almost completely pulled out in a second, and he repeats the process over and over, his hips thrusting upward with no real pace, desperate, close, and erratic.

 

Dean licks the sensitive underside of Sam's crown every time he gets the chance and it drives Sam absolutely wild. Dean corkscrews the vibrator, twisting his wrist as pulls it in and out.

 

All at once, Sam explodes, crying and moaning deep in his throat, his cock red hot and twitching in Dean's mouth. Dean pulls up just a little and Sam comes straight down Dean's throat, his hands grabbing at Dean's hair and tugging.

 

Dean sits up between Sam's thighs, lying limp on the bed. He wipes the come from the edge of his mouth and licks it up, sighing. He slowly tugs the vibrator out of Sam's hole and turns it off, dropping it onto the sheets. Sam's hole clenches and flutters around nothing, dark pink and abused.

 

Dean can't feel the cold at all now. He yanks his belt off and shoves his jeans and boxers to his hips, his hand squeezing the base of his dick. He bites back a low groan and Sam sits up.

 

"No, let me, let me," Sam begs, crawling forward to push Dean down onto the bed. He straddles Dean and sits down on Dean's cock, and holy fuck, holy fuck, Dean is inside of his little brother, who is still so tight and delicious after all of that.

 

Sam stays still, his arms braced on either side of Dean's head, and he bends down to kiss Dean, all Sammy-sweet and almost chaste. Dean knows Sam can taste himself on Dean's lips, and the kiss goes slutty and eager fast.

 

Dean grabs Sam's hips and just fucking lets go. He fucks up into Sam, the bed squeaking and bouncing underneath them. His hips slap against Sam's ass and he's way too far gone. He wants to be inside Sam forever, wants to make it last, but he can't. He only manages about three solid pumps before his orgasm draws his balls up and sends a shock of electricity up his spine. His vision goes white and he pumps his seed right into Sammy's hole, gasping like a man who's almost drowned.

 

As he softens, Sam raises up, Dean's cock falling out, come dripping out of him. He flops onto the bed beside Dean, closing his eyes. Once Dean finds his way back to his body, he lazily turns his neck to stare at Sam and gauge how the kid's doing.

 

Sam's got a little smile on his face, his cheeks still pinked. In a bleeding-heart moment, Dean reaches down between them and grabs Sam's hand, entwining their fingers together. Sam gives Dean's hand a little squeeze, and Dean squeezes back.

 

"You have no idea how long I've wanted that," Dean says, his throat dry and sore. He coughs, staring up at the ceiling, all of his muscles loose and relaxed.

 

"You never did notice that all of my high school boyfriends looked exactly like you," Sam says, and there's a chuckle in his voice. "I was so scared you'd point it out and ask me what the fuck was wrong with me."

 

"Yeah, well," Dean shrugs. "Was too jealous to notice much. We've always been the same brand of fucked up, you know? If I had known how scared you were, I woulda blown you that first time back in '97."

 

Sam laughs. "Wish you would've."

 

"Well, better late than never," Dean says, and he has a feeling they aren't going to get much research done over the next couple of days.

 

Sam makes a noise in agreement and turns onto his side, burrowing close to Dean. Dean pulls up the sticky sheets and they both shift and wiggle until they're safely underneath. Dean turns to face Sam and wraps his arms around his baby brother, resting his chin on top of Sam's head.

 

"We should probably go and add more wood to the fire," Dean says, pausing to yawn.

 

"Mmm-hmm," Sam mumbles against Dean's chest, pressing himself as close to his brother as he can get, snuggling up to Dean's heat.

 

"Yeah," Dean says, petting Sam's back. He closes his eyes, stretching his toes and keeping Sam firmly in his embrace. He drifts off to sleep, fantasizing about a naked Sam spread out in front of the fireplace, content in knowing that he won't have to fantasize much longer.

 

Sam is his, and he is Sam's. He doesn't know how it's ever been any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> I meant to add more times Dean peeped on Sam but I also really wanted to get to the incest bit, sorry. Comments appreciated.


End file.
